


A Kiss de Fleurs

by aneclipsedhabitue



Category: A Passionate Woman (TV), Spies of Warsaw (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Kiss, Florist AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 08:24:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11332047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aneclipsedhabitue/pseuds/aneclipsedhabitue
Summary: Modern Day AU. A flower shop and its most valued customer.





	A Kiss de Fleurs

**Author's Note:**

> For my good pal Skyler, a modern!AU for one of my fav Teninch ships! Hope

 Betty never took much of an interest in her customers. Not that she didn’t love them, but Betty rarely even had customers.

Betty opened her flower shop not long after she finished high school, she didn’t have the money to go to University full time. Not even with the pension her family received when her father died. Most of that money went to her older sister Margaret who has a family to support, and the rest of it paid for their mom who was currently in hospital with early signs of dementia.

Nevertheless, thanks to some business classes and some working student loans, Betty was able to open a small flower shop. Most of her customers were usually buying for one day events such as weddings and graduations. Most of them were in a rush, nobody took the time to even get to know Betty. Her customers only really got to know Betty’s one employee, Mira. She worked on deliveries and was as loud and extroverted as one could get.

Mira was the beautiful one according to Betty, she wore thin dresses with roses and had her hair curled professionally. Constantly smiling politely at the men with their wives and flirtatiously when they were alone. As objectifying as it was, Betty figured as long as it brought in customers Mira could dress and act however she wanted.

Perhaps it was because Betty didn’t wear make up, her hair was always down in the same mess of curls she had given up on trying to tame. Or maybe because her beloved white apron uniform was rarely clean and always had mulch or dirt on it. Betty could sadly understand why customers wouldn’t bat an eye at her.

Safe for one.

It was about 3 in the afternoon. Mira was on delivery, and Betty was assembling her latest order in the back when she heard the ding of the front bell.

 _Just in time_ she thought.

Betty made her way to the front and was delighted to see her most valued customer. (Both for his services to the store and for, other reasons.)

“Hiya Jean-François!” She smiled at him.

He stood there tall and practically glowing. His brown curly permed hair was deliciously ruffled and the suit he wore only highlighted his strong,  
slim yet muscular physique. His warm brown eyes grew lighter at the sight of her, “Hello Betty! What have you got for me today?”

Jean-François Mercier started coming around Betty’s shop a few months ago, he came around on his lunch break from The French embassy in the more municipal part of London. When he first told Betty of his work she had felt a little intimidated, a man with such an important work surely didn’t have the time to be in her little shop.

Nevertheless, every few days Jean-François would buy whatever flowers she recommended. Betty’s heart always swelled at the sight of him, she wouldn’t come to terms with it but she had a little bit of a crush on him. He was just so damn chivalrous and pleasant—and only with her! The few occasions he met Mira he was much less animated even as Mira relentlessly tried to flirt with him, it made Betty secretly feel giddy.

“Hmmm, well I know you mentioned you’re going on a business trip in a few days, right?”

He nodded.

She smiled and stepped around the counter and lead him down the few shelves of pots she had assembled. She was softly muttering and her hand was up as she pointed, looking for a certain bouquet.

“Aha! Got ‘em!” Betty bent down and picked up a pot with bright pink, red and yellow flowers. All varying in different textures, shapes and sizes. “A bouquet of Zinnias! These luvs will last you a long time.”

He smiled gently at her and took the pot from her hands and began walking back to the counter. “Betty I…I don’t know how long this trip will be.”

Betty was back at the cash register, reading to collect his payment when she froze. “Oh?”

“I could be gone for a long time.”

Betty nodded and looked down, “That’s a shame…for…for the shop and all.” She muttered.

Jean-François bent his head to meet her gaze, “Betty?”

She refused to look up at him and reveal her glistening eyes. _They always leave, everyone I care about somehow leaves_. She thought of her Da and her Mam who barely recognized her, and how Margaret hadn’t spoken to her in a few months, always claiming she was “busy”. Jean-François was Betty’s main source of joy for quite some time and the thought of him not being around anymore pained her greatly. Betty felt his hand reach over the counter and tilt her chin up to meet his concerned gaze.

“Betty, please don’t cry. I loathe the sight.” His hand grazed her cheek. “It won’t be too long and I will be back!”

She bit her lip, “You will?” Her voice coy. Why was her voice trembling. It’s not like her and him were a thing. Right?

“Yes,” his tone was firm. “Besides,” he half smiled, “I would never leave town permanently without having dinner with you first.”

Betty’s heart skipped a beat, “Wha—really?”

He smirked at her, and stood up straight. He took out his wallet and placed the money he owed her along with his business card underneath the bill. “Come to my apartment tomorrow night,” he smiled at her gaping expression, “I’d like to cook for you. Call that number after work tomorrow and I’ll make arrangements for you to come.”

Betty stared wide eyed at him. A few breathless moments passed before she slowly nodded, “Alright.” She whispered.

She turned her head away from him to make his change but when she looked back up he was gone, and she hadn’t even heard the bell.

_Blimey he is a master at stealth._

Betty took hold of his business card and was surprised to read on the back of the printed words his mobile number and the words:

 **Call me, Betty**.

Betty bit her lip to conceal her excitement as she made a mental note to wash her favorite dress for tomorrow.

~*~*~

Betty chewed her thumbnail until it bled. She stood in her tiny flat, in her even tinier bedroom twirling around in her favorite yellow dress. In curved into her body nicely and made her feel like Princess Belle from Beauty and The Beast, her favorite one. She worried it might be too fancy for dinner at his apartment, but knowing how luxuriant Jean-François could be her dress was probably appropriate.

Before she could worry herself into a panic she heard her doorbell ring and startled to see Not-Jean-François at her door.

“ _Bonjour mademoiselle_.” The man was a bit more elderly with an exaggerated French accent. His gray mustache took over most of his face but Betty could see warmth in his blue eyes.

“Sorry, can I help you?”

“Mr. Mercier sent me.” His hands were held behind his gray suited body. He was plump and short and if Betty wasn’t mightily confused she would have found him endearing.

“He sent you? I don’t get it.”

The man chuckled, “I’m your personal escort to his apartment.”

“Blimey,” she sighed. He had actually sent her a driver. She licked her lips and stood up straighter. “Alright then, let’s go.”

He smiled and lead her to a black Austin motive that looked very old, but very shiny. She bit back a retort about how ancient Jean-François was sometimes.

The drive over was short and mostly silent. The driver introduced himself as Jacques Dufour. An old family friend of Mercier’s. When Betty asked how Jean-François got a family friend to work for him he simply said,

“He took care of me when my family turned their backs.” He gestured to his nose in indication of his struggle with addiction.

Betty nodded in silent conformation, sorrow and a newfound respect for her date.

Jacques lead her to the stairs and with a slight bow, bid her a good night.

Betty ascended the stairs to his flat which she realized walking up the stairs was more like a loft and lightly rapped on his door.

He opened the door with a soft smile on his face, “Betty,” he ran his eyes over her gown, “you look lovely.”

She blushed and looked down. She took in his suit as well, slim and tight and topped off with a bowtie around his neck. His array of curls on his head were neat and she stifled a groan at the idea of messing it up. He extended his hand which she took excitedly and he kissed their intertwined fingers.

He lead her to a lovely set table with candles and two plates and what looked like a feast for a King.

“Golly, I didn’t know you could cook, and you cooked so much!” She grinned at him.

“Well,” he drawled and tugged on his ear. “I have a confession…I had my sister help me.” He grinned sheepishly.

“Aw, well that’s alright.” Betty smiled. “She isn’t joining us?”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, “Ahem, no. She wanted to.. give us privacy.” He said slowly.

“Oh.”

“Is that alright?”

She nodded. He held his hand out for her and spoke softly, “The food’s still got to cool down. Would you like a tour?”

The loft was still dimly lit due to the candles, so Betty didn’t initially see the horrors that were his plants. He switched on more lamps and started talking about the maps on his dark green walls when Betty gasped.

“Jean-François!” She cried and rushed over to a vase of wilted roses he bought from her two weeks ago.

He slowly made his way over to her, like a child about to be scolded. “Ah Betty, I truly am sorry. In all fairness though I’m rarely here, the embassy sends me on many trips, and they keep me late all the time. I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve spent on the couch in my office.”

She furrowed her brows, “I don’t understand,” she ran her fingers over the browned petals of the flowers, suppressing a cringe at the crinkly unnatural feel. “Why would you buy flowers from me if you ain’t gonna take care of ‘em?” She wanted to sound angry, she wanted to feel played, but something in her heart told her that he had other less obscure motives.

He looked at her almost incredulously, his coyness disappeared replaced by a soldierly bravado that washed over him. He took a step towards her, “Betty. I don’t go to your flower shop for flowers.”

She ran her eyes over his face, “You don’t?”

“No.”

“…Why then?” She needed to hear him say it.

He stood above her, amongst the still low lighted walls of his loft and slowly took her head in his hands. He bent closer to her and whispered, “You. Only you.”

His lips gently silenced whatever surprised gasp she had. A few still moments passed before he felt her hand on the back of his neck and tugged him closer to her. Parting her lips and kissing him back hesitantly. Warmth and triumph swelled through both of them, whatever mutual feelings they might have had for one another seemed to be resolved with each press of their lips and lick of their tongues.

He descended to her jaw and neck and she was going to be done for if she didn’t stop this. For a moment she worried about what he intended to do with her, luckily her worries were disproved when he pressed his lips tightly and firmly to hers and then backed away. Both were panting and flushed and feeling an amalgam of emotions.

“Blimey.” She gasped.

He chuckled. “I would continue,” his voice low and sultry. “But I believe I owe you a meal.”

She half smiled and giggled to her shoes, “Glad we worked up an appetite.”

He laughed then and kissed her cheek and lead her to the table.

“Wait, does this mean you won’t buy plants from me anymore?”

“Would you still sell them to me knowing what may happen to them?” He gestured back to the wilting roses.

“If I was good at me job I would say no.”

“But?” he smiled.

“I need to make a profit somehow.”

They both laughed, “So it’s revealed you only like me for business.” His tone playful.

“Exactly.”

He served her a small portion of _coq au vin_ and refilled her wine glass. “Of course I will continue to buy from you. Despite my nefarious motives I do enjoy your assortments.”

A slow grin lit up her face, “Yeah?”

“I promise, when I return from my trip all the flowers I buy from you will be in perfect condition for the next time you come here.”

She slightly choked on her wine and coughed into a napkin, causing him to run his hand over her back soothingly. Even when she was able to breathe again, his fingers hadn’t left her skin.

“Next time?”

“Do you want there to be a next time, Betty?” His chair now closer to her.

She could only nod with a blissful smile.

He smiled back and captured her lips between his.

Jean-François had a talent for unintentionally letting his plants wither. To him, Betty was the most delicate flower there was so he kissed her passionately. Letting her know he would never let her wilt away.


End file.
